


Training Wheels

by kuonji



Series: Never Too Late [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU (Animated)
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It took all of Alfred's training not to exclaim in surprise at his master's announcement.  "I... see, sir.  And how long will the boy be staying with us?"</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Alfred finds himself in turns bemused, horrified, and exasperated, as their temporary houseguest to Wayne Manor becomes so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Wheels

It took all of Alfred's training not to exclaim in surprise at his master's announcement. "I... see, sir. And how long will the boy be staying with us?"

"Just until Zucco is safely in custody. And believe me, that's going to be _soon_."

"Yes, speaking of which..." Alfred cautioned, equal parts unnerved and irritated by the man's tendency to _growl_ when speaking of the criminal element. "How do you plan on explaining your nocturnal excursions?"

"Oh. Well. Late meetings. With Japan, of course. WayneTech is an international corporation."

The answer was more than enough to convince Alfred that Bruce had, contrary to usual practice, acted completely on impulse. As welcome as that might be in regards to Bruce's character, whether the results of this action would turn out well remained to be seen.

***

The boy arrived the next morning, dressed in an over-sized cable-knit sweater, blue-jean work pants with the bottoms rolled up, and carrying only a single, small suitcase. He was a pale, dark-haired chap with blue eyes that seemed to drink in the sky. He was almost painfully polite as Commissioner Gordon introduced him to Bruce and Alfred on the steps, and he watched the man drive away with a lost expression.

Alfred could immediately see why Bruce had been so taken by the young orphan. It wasn't hard at all to remember a time fifteen years ago when Alfred had stood before another brave, solemn-faced boy in the foyer like this.

Now, like then, he put a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed, trying to reassure him that despite the rest of the world falling apart in front of him, at least he had a place to call home.

"I'll just show you to your room then, Master Richard."

"Huh?" The boy looked up, momentarily shaken out of his melancholic trance. "Oh, you can call me Dick."

"Of course. _Master Dick_."

That at least shocked a startled look from the boy. "I..." he started to protest, before trailing off.

"Don't try to change his ways, Dick. You won't get far," Bruce cautioned with an tone of exagerrated cheer.

The boy smiled uncertainly at the joke, his gaze bouncing between them. Bruce's smile faltered as well. "Why don't we, uh, head on up?"

"Okay."

***

"Alfred? Can I ask you something?"

Alfred glanced up from the cookbook on the island counter. The boy was knelt up on a stool next to him, elbows on the counter, twisting the stool back and forth. In the few days that he'd been here, he seemed to have acclimated reasonably well into the routine of the Manor. Since he was admonished to stay within the building at all times for his own safety, on most days, he searched out Alfred and attempted to assist him in his duties. Alfred didn't approve, but he found it difficult to turn the boy away. It would be cruel to require him to stay alone in this huge house on top of losing the only family he'd ever had.

"Of course, Master Dick," he answered, as he checked his ingredients against the list.

The boy made a face at that. "Could you please stop calling me that? My name's Dick. Just Dick."

Alfred suppressed a smile. "Certainly. Master Dick."

The boy pouted for a second, but then he laughed. "Is that British humor? Bruce told me to watch out for that."

"I haven't any idea what you mean," Alfred replied with his most stuffy tone of voice. "Young Master Grayson, do stop laughing. That is not at all proper. And sit up straight. Gentlemen do not weave about and snort through their noses as if they are playing some new-fangled instrument." The boy predictably doubled over in giggles. When he had recovered somewhat, Alfred prompted him, in a normal tone, "You had a question for me?"

"Um, yeah. What does a butler do, exactly?"

Alfred allowed a twitch of amusement, thinking of all the decidedly un-butlery tasks that Batman's manservant undertook. However, he replied with, "My utmost duty is to run this household. That includes keeping it well-supplied with the necessary consumables, overseeing the staff, keeping the place tidy, attending visitors and planning social events on-site, and in my case," he waved at the counter, currently occupied by various mixing implements, "cooking and serving meals for Master Bruce and yourself."

The boy's eyes were rounded. "That sounds like a lot of work."

"It certainly helps me to feel accomplished at the end of each day," Alfred agreed lightly.

"But, isn't it weird to be doing all this stuff for Bruce? I mean, you're older than him. Shouldn't he be taking care of you and stuff?"

"First of all, I am hardly as decrepit as to need a minder, thank you very much. More importantly, I am his butler. Age has nothing to do with it."

By his expression, Dick seemed unconvinced.

"Don't you ask adults to do things for you? For instance, didn't your mother cook meals for you?"

The boy shrugged. He started twisting the stool back and forth again. Alfred made a mental note to oil the hinges. "Yeah, I guess. My mom always says-- said that I shouldn't treat her like a servant, though."

"And that was quite right of her. However, I am in fact paid to serve this family, so it's entirely appropriate to ask me to perform tasks that are within my duties."

"I don't know. It just feels weird to me."

"Well. I suppose you could pretend I'm like... a relative of some sort."

"Like an uncle or something?"

"Yes, quite." Alfred was glad the boy hadn't settled on 'grandfather'. He'd never have been able to live that one down with Bruce.

"Okay." The boy grinned, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

The next moment, Alfred froze in shock and a sudden unfamiliar panic when the boy threw his arms around him and squeezed him in a tight hug. "O-Oh! Oh, my, yes. Very happy, I'm sure." He patted the boy's head awkwardly, trying to remember what his own father had been like with him when he was this age. Hearty claps on the shoulder and strictly modulated congratulatory sips of wine came to mind. Bruce as a child hadn't been any more demonstrative, as Alfred recalled.

The boy, obviously noticing his discomfort, drew back. "Sorry. I guess you don't like that."

"No, it's all right. I'm simply not accustomed to it. I was... startled."

"Yeah, I noticed."

Their moment of connection had been ruined, and Alfred was sorry for it. Floundering for a way to recover it, he asked, "Would you like to help me with this lemon cake? It was one of Master Bruce's favorites when he was a boy."

"Are you sure?" Dick asked, voice timid.

"Of course. And since part of my duties is serving the meals in this household, I will even promise that you may have the first piece."

A smile began to creep across the young boy's features. "Before even Bruce, you mean?"

"Before even Bruce," Alfred agreed, enjoying the conspiratorial gleam in Dick's eyes.

***

"Alfred, come here!"

"What is it?" Alfred called, wiping his hands on the front of his work apron as he entered the dining room. "I only have a moment, I'm afraid. The silver shouldn't be left-- Heavens above!" He shied backward in horror as Dick cartwheeled down the length of the dining table, bounced off a trampoline, caught and swung on the chandelier, then executed a double somersault before landing directly in front of him. He raised his arms, as if expecting applause.

Recovering somewhat, Alfred put on a stern expression. "Master Dick, it was my impression that you had a perfectly good exercise room to perform these... routines in. And let us not forget the very spacious practice area _downstairs_."

If there was one thing the facilities in the Cave had to be good for (aside from collecting massive layers of dust and guano), it was to provide an appropriate environment for his two young charges to practice their death-defying stunts. Alfred already had his reservations about taking the boy into 'the business'. He absolutely drew the line at bringing outdoor shenanigans into his dining room.

"Aw, but I wanted you to see."

"Very well. I've seen it. Now will you _please_ take your routine to a more amenable location?"

"Sure thing, Alfred. Oh, could you make me one of those turkey sandwiches with the sprouts and cheese?" The cheeky little rascal!

"Certainly. And would the young master like paprika powder or laxatives with that?"

"Uh...?"

"Never mind. I shall let it be a surprise."

"Alfred, wait! Aw, Alfred. I'm sorry! Come on!"

His back turned, he allowed himself a satisfied smirk. Let that be a lesson, then.

***

"Hi, Alfred. Bruce said I should talk to you."

"What about, young sir?" Alfred frowned at a bruised apple. He would have to have another word with the delivery boy.

"Well, I asked him a question, and, um. You know what? It's not that important."

"I am no _detective_ , of course, but whatever it is, if it's causing that flummoxed frown on your face, I'm inclined to believe it _is_ somewhat important."

The boy moved the stepstool they kept in the pantry over to the counter and hopped up onto it so that he could reach the counter easily. He picked up one of the apples Alfred was slicing and started doing the same with a spare knife. "I asked him how often you had to have sex to make a baby, and he sort of freaked out-- Alfred, are you okay?"

The Wayne Manor cutlery was always kept honed to a perfect working edge. So Alfred was doubly grateful that his training and experience precluded any casual slips. He cleared his throat. "I see. What an interesting question. And why, might I ask, were you curious about this particular topic?"

"I'm pretty sure my parents had sex a lot. They'd try to be quiet and all, but it's not like I couldn't tell what they were doing. The lions used to do it all the time, you know? We couldn't run Raja in the show when it was mating season, because he'd get in such a temper.

"But anyway, my folks never had any kids after me. I was wondering why. It would have been nice to have a little brother. Or a sister, except then I'd have to be the catcher once I grew up. I mean, after my Dad retired. And I like being the flier more. Oh, did Bruce tell you? The new grapple lines are almost ready. The tips are shaped like _bats_. It's going to be so cool."

Thank goodness for the lad's penchant for becoming distracted. Alfred encouraged this new avenue of conversation until the pie was safely in the oven and the boy safely upstairs. He made a note to himself to make an appointment for young Master Dick with the school nurse, as he had once done for his older charge. He told himself this was a matter of propriety and not cowardice.

***

The vehicle dubbed the 'Batmobile' arrived home at the usual breakneck pace that Alfred had never been able to talk Bruce out of. For all his rationalizations, Alfred was quite convinced that the man simply enjoyed the thrill of imitating a jet on land and turning corners on two wheels. He put on the usual stern expression. Even if he could do nothing to change Bruce's ways, he wasn't about to stop trying to discourage them.

When the top opened and 'Batman' climbed out, however, Alfred couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in inquiry. Another man might not have realized it, especially with the cowl covering half his face, but Alfred had known Bruce since he was no more than a squalling babe. He could tell when the man was practically giddy with glee.

The reason for it was apparent soon enough as an ecstatic Richard Grayson leapt out of the car, the grin on his face enough to light up the dank corners of the cave.

"A successful test today as well, then?" Alfred surmised.

"Not just a test, Alfred! I saved someone's life tonight!"

"That does sound impressive." Alfred looked to Bruce for an explanation.

That turned out to be unnecessary, as Dick excitedly continued, "We were racing--" Bruce grunted. " _\--training_ , when Batman caught sight of some thugs threatening this guy on the top of a building. We attacked them, but the guy fell over the side. He would've died, but lucky for him, Robin was there. I shot a line, bang!, and dove right over and caught him, just like that." He snapped his fingers.

"And then you smashed through a window and knocked yourself unconscious," Bruce appended drily.

"Oh dear! I hope you're not hurt!" Alfred checked his young charge over visually for cuts, especially his bare elbows and face.

Dick waved him away. "I'm fine, Alfred. I _saved_ him! He _thanked_ me! It was so great! This is the best job ever."

Satisfied that he was as unscathed as he claimed, Alfred offered the young man a congratulatory smile. "Indeed, Master Dick. Indeed."

***

Bruce slumped into a stool at the kitchen counter with none of the grace that his alter ego possessed.

"Alfred, a glass of water and some aspirin, please?" he asked, in a subdued voice.

"Certainly, sir. Are you feeling unwell?" Perhaps the sun had been too much for him. Alfred _had_ advised against the convertible.

He had just set down the glass on a coaster in front of the dazed-looking man when his younger charge burst in and declared boisterously, hands on hips in a dramatic pose, "First driving lesson, a resounding success!"

"Do tell."

"We started off on the grounds at first, but that got ridiculous real fast. I mean, it's not like driving a stick shift is any harder than grappling over the low-rises on 33rd while shooting off a batarang. So I took us down the hill and really gave the old Pontiac a workout."

"Did you, now? That seems ambitious."

"Oh, yeah! Bruce wasn't too keen on trying out the freeway first thing, but I told him I could handle it. And I totally did. Right, Bruce?"

Bruce, who had been noticeably mute up until now, grunted in a pained way. That seemed enough for the effusive young man.

"Yeah, it was great! Don't worry, Alfred, I went at exactly the speed limit. Scout's honor." He grinned cheekily. "Or should that be Robin's honor? Anyway, I was amazing. Bruce even said I didn't need him to teach me anymore. He's going to sign me up for practice at the test track starting next week. Isn't that great?"

"Sounds delightful. Now why don't you head on inside. There's turkey and alfafa sandwiches for you in the dining room."

The young man whooped in glee as he jogged through to the house proper. "I can't wait to drive the Batmobile!" he called back, before they heard the soft _thwup-thwup-thwup_ of the swinging door shutting once again.

Chuckling, Alfred turned back to Bruce. "You know, sir, I think we've done a passable job at raising the young master."

Sighing, Bruce put a hand on Alfred's elbow. He was not usually given to intimate diplays, and neither was Alfred himself, but he patted Bruce's hand -- only to have it enclosed suddenly in a vise-like grip. "Alfred!" the man groaned. "The aspirin, please."

"Ah, yes, Master Bruce. Right away."

He didn't _quite_ bother to hide his smile as he continued about his duties.

 

END.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:  
> [Scenes From An Alternate Universe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1021784) (Batman), by kuonji  
> [Meant To Be](http://archiveofourown.org/works/26263) (Batman), by skund  
> [Most Important Meal](http://marag.livejournal.com/462743.html) (Batman), by maraq  
> [The Best There Ever Was](http://archiveofourown.org/works/371177) (Batman), by RileyC  
> [Untitled](http://fyeahbatmanandrobin.tumblr.com/post/20941958253/anonymous-asked-you-you-should-write-some-good) (Batman), by fyeahbatmanandrobin


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